Watch
by PlasticPencils
Summary: I should've told her when we were fourteen. Apparently I waited too long. I really was losing her... And all I could do was watch. T for swearing, alcoholism, and Drunk Danny. DannyxSam (this story has a third genre: humor)
1. Chapter 1

**(Danny's POV)**

And there she went. There she went with the new love of her life. Puberty had been good to her. She now had all the right curves in all the right places. She wasn't the fourteen-year-old girl I wanted to believe she was. Her hormones weren't crazy anymore. She was a woman now. An adult. And unlike back in our teen years, she wouldn't even look at me now. We were friends. Not best friends (we'd drifted apart during college). Just friends. So basically, I was in the friend zone, and I honestly didn't want to get out of it. I wasn't on her list of potential boyfriends. If by some fortunate chance I used to be, then that was long gone now.

But I still loved her. Call me stupid. Call me crazy. It didn't change anything. I still loved her, I loved her like there was no tomorrow and for me...there really wasn't a tomorrow. She was my whole life. She had always been my life, my world. But I was a fool, and I still am a fool. I loved someone far beyond my reach, someone completely out of my league. I loved her too much...

I had loved her since I was fourteen. And it had been eight years. An entire eight years. We were all twenty-two years old. It was a long time. I'd had a long road, and I was stupid enough to follow it. Where did it lead me? It led me to watching Sam date everyone but me. I was on the sidelines now, always hoping to gain just one smile, just one glance in my direction.

We still met up, but she always brought her boyfriend along. And she _always_ had a boyfriend. Tucker...well, he still hasn't had much luck with women. He's had a few girlfriends, but not nearly as many as Sam. And me? I didn't want another girl. Sometimes one would would flirt with me but...my eyes were set on Sam. I looked at her and her only. It made Tucker feel sorry for me. He never said anything to Sam, who by the way was still goth and ultra-recylco-vegetarian, or dropped her any hints that I was interested.

I poured myself another glass and started draining that one.

Thing is, I wasn't interested in the least. I could be called "head over heels" for her, but I would prefer the term "love". Pure love, that's all I had. I should've mustered the courage to ask her out when we were fourteen, and then maybe none of this would've happened. Maybe Sam and I would be together. But apparently I waited too long, and now a million different men went straight for her. Sadly I wasn't one of them. God only knows what those men wanted from her. Not to say that at least a few of them were innocent and honest, but I could easily guarantee that at least half of them wanted to do her.

I couldn't help but wonder if Sam had already lost her virginity, and which man had taken it. I wanted to believe she had never given her innocence to anyone. Well, not yet at least. I knew it was only a matter of time before someone took her, but honestly I would rather that special someone be me. Maybe it sounded perverted but I just didn't want some other man taking her in bed. At least I knew I would stay with her. I would love her and hold her and whisper sweet nothings in her ear... I would do anything for her, and I wanted her to know that.

I didn't bother with a glass this time. I cracked open a can and drank straight from that.

My whole life was going downhill. _I_ was going downhill. Everything was crap now. Every ghost I fought was fought without Sam. At least I still had Tucker, but I needed Sam... I just couldn't let her go...

But then, did I really have a choice? I never left her, she left me. And not just me, she left Tucker, too. Her two best friends, and she'd left us behind just for some random guy that happened to be flirting with her. It was like she was just picking them up off the streets! Where did all these men come from?!

_Damn you... If you had asked her out when you still had the chance your life wouldn't be shit right now. So congratulations, you fool! You've lost her forever!_

"I hate myself..." I muttered.

I was all alone in my apartment. No one could hear me talking to myself. It was just me. It had always been just me. Tucker could move in, I wouldn't mind. Being alone had a lot of downsides. It made life more miserable, more unbearable. But...again, we had all drifted apart during college. None of us got accepted into the same one, so we all parted, went our separate ways. I still fought ghosts. Tucker still came with me to fight ghosts. And Sam...well...I couldn't tell anyone to save my life. I had no clue what she was up to these days. I didn't get to see her very often, and when I did, she was too lost in her boyfriend's eyes to pay attention. So my questions went unanswered and I was always ignored. I tried to stay close to her, I really did, but...it seemed to be impossible.

I really was losing her...

* * *

**(Tucker's POV)**

I worried about my friend. Ever since college he's been depressed and angry all the time. It makes it easier to fight ghosts that way, but harder on me to see him suffer so badly. And of course it didn't help that the woman he held so close to his heart was never interested in him, and instead was always dating someone else. In fact, every time we saw her, she had a new boyfriend. And it broke Danny's heart. Every time.**  
**

I didn't understand why he clung to false hopes all these years. I didn't understand why he couldn't move on. But if there was one thing I _did_ understand, it was that he loved her with every fiber in his body. In my eyes, he was the perfect man for Sam. He was strong, protective, caring, and overall, loving. He tried to put up this reputation of a rock-hard person who only focused on his job. He pretended not to have eyes for any woman. But I saw past his whole tough act. Underneath he was nothing more than a big marshmallow. Every smile from Sam sent his heart fluttering. Every time she talked to him he smiled.

But then she got yet another boyfriend and the both of us were passed off as less than friends. Danny would slump back and try not to cry. He always thought about Sam, I know he did. So when she brushed us off like that, Danny might as well have died. Sometimes I couldn't help but think that he _wanted_ to die. After awhile it became too much for him and he couldn't take it any longer. He still chose to cling to her, for reasons I could never explain. But he didn't have it in him to deal with any more of this. He wanted to stay close to Sam, and in order to do that he needed to try to imagine that those boyfriends of hers didn't exist.

And sadly...it didn't help. He chose to drown his problems in beer. Beer, scotch, vodka, wine...you name it, he drank it. Any alcoholic beverage was good enough for him. He refused to let Sam know about this. It wasn't my place to tell her. But he was almost always drunk, and I always tried to help him. I won't lie, he was a drunken idiot for doing this. I didn't care how much he hated his life, I wanted him to stop. It would be fine if he had just a glass of whatever every now and then, but he didn't. He drank every day and it wasn't like most men do when they watch a football game. He drank _heavily_. Every damn day was filled with beer.

When he wasn't working, he was trying to make arrangements for the three of us, plus Sam's new boyfriend, to get together and hang out. But...lately things haven't gone as planned. Danny's been having medical problems recently...I think. It really did kill me to see him that way, always so fatigued and unfocused. His eyes were actually glazed over and hazy. Occasionally he would have trouble keeping perfect balance. Occasionally he would fail to walk in a straight line, but only slightly veering in a different direction. Still...my heart went out to him.

He was getting bad. And the worst part was, Sam would never notice, which would only make him get worse.

But right now I had to head over to his place. I was regularly checking up on him and probably about a third of the number of times I came, he was completely smashed. This was a part of that whole "one-third" thing. Yes, he was definitely drunk and yes, there were empty beer cans scattered everywhere, some of them from the day prior and ones that had been opened and consumed today.

"Hey," he greeted, his speech horribly slurred. "I'm...jus' gunna...y'know..." He leaned against a wall. "M'yeah..."

I sighed. It didn't seem to be as bad as yesterday... "Yeah, hey, Danny."

He grinned. "I's especin' ya..."

Drunk Danny translated to English, "I was expecting you."

The first several times I had come over here to find him like this, I was shocked and couldn't really handle him. I also had no clue what he was saying. But as the days passed, I learned everything...how he worked, what his new language was, the ability to determine the level of drunkness. All that jazz.

I hated being over here. It was just...I felt like he needed me, especially when he was so drunk. I also feared for his safety when he got like this. All he had to do was turn on the stove, or pick up a knife with shaky hands... He could walk out the door and trip down the stairs that led up to his apartment. Who knows what kind of dangers he could put himself in? He was too far gone, too illogical. He couldn't think straight at all. The only thing he could do was act drunk.

"You're drunk again, huh?" I murmured.

He closed his eyes and snickered, his head hanging down.

"Yeah. You're even laughing at it," I continued. This was normally how I amused myself. I would push aside beer cans, sit on his couch, and keep talking about whatever. It was fun watching his reactions considering he wouldn't remember any of this in the morning.

"What do you think Sam would do if she saw you like this?" I asked.

"I'm not...gay..." he replied.

I couldn't help but laugh. I couldn't believe he actually thought I meant a guy's name when I said "Sam". "No, no, Sam as in _Samantha_."

He looked up at me, confused. "S'weird, I know a _girl_ name' S'mantha. S'weird name idn' it?" (That's weird, I know a girl named Samantha. That's a weird name isn't it?)

"Yeah, I'm talking about her. What do you think she'll do if she finds you like this?" I repeated.

He snickered again and tried to focus on getting off the wall while still standing. "Ca-Can som'n see dis?" (Can someone see this?)

"See what?"

"See meh. I's jus' wund'rin...'cuz...th'walls, n'stuff," he said. (See me. I was just wondering...'cause...the walls, and stuff.)

It took me a second to mentally translate that. I doubted he could even _try_ to pronounce his words correctly. I could talk and he would understand it. He would talk and I would just barely understand it. Thankfully I came by here every day. He usually got drunk around afternoon, which was good for me considering that not only could I time it, but that I could also get him to go to bed and sleep when nighttime came around. For now I would have to settle for keeping him distracted and letting him roam his own residence while babbling nonsense to either me or himself.

"So," I started, "anything new?"

He chuckled and merely looked at me before speaking, "I dun th'nk so. Maybe. Um, I dun'no. M'I walk'n' funny?" (I don't think so. Maybe. Um, I don't know. Am I walking funny?)

I smiled and bit my lip, trying to hold back my laughter. He was a drunken moron right now, of course he was walking funny. He was _hitting_ everything around him. "No, what makes you say that?"

This time there was another look of confusion. "Why's all thi'stuff movin'? I'keeps blockin' meh in...n' I dun't like't. S'piss'n' meh off!" (Why is all this stuff moving? It keeps blocking me in...and I don't like it. It's pissing me off!)

I snorted a couple times and almost erupted in laughter. Nothing was blocking him in, he wasn't even out of the hallway yet. He kept bumping into one wall and stumbling back into the other. "Nothing's moving, you're fine."

He nodded. "I'ink I'm stuck... Sum'un needs'a get meh outta here. Where'sa exit...?" (I think I'm stuck... Someone needs to get me out of here. Where's the exit...?)

I got up and walked over to the hallway, where Danny had made little progress getting out of, and grabbed his wrist. I started leading him out but he yanked his hand back and pouted.

"I'han _do_ it!" (I can do it!)

I raised an eyebrow and looked him straight in his dazed eyes. "You want to get out of here or not?"

He groaned, whether it was because he was drunk or whether it was because he was protesting I didn't know, and held out his hand. I led him out and into his living room.

"Uz r' a ghost attack right now?" (Is there a ghost attack right now?)

"N-" I stopped short when I saw the reason he'd asked that question. Danny may not have had much logic or sense right now, but he seemed to know what was happening...sort of. An icy blue breath released itself from his alcohol-ridden mouth and he looked up, his feet unstable and his eyes unfocused. "Uh..."

"I's goin' ghost!" (I'm going ghost!) he shouted to no one in particular as he transformed. At least he could focus on one thing.

I held my breath. I wanted to tell him to stop, to back down for once and not fight. But...for one thing, he wouldn't listen to me; and sadly, he was the only legitimate ghost-fighter this city had. As dangerous as it was to go after a ghost in his current condition, we were limited in our options. I had no idea what would happen if he tried to fly or shoot ghost rays. And if his parents came after him and saw all the destruction he could potentially cause, they could have no problem catching or even killing him. Or the ghost could end up killing him. But right now he was drunk and his temper would flare in battle. It might just be enough to get a clean shot, to fly in the right direction, and to suck the ghost into the thermos.

This was just in theory though. Well, no, not really; this was just in high _hopes_ right now.

He stumbled forward a little bit before turning intangible and flying through the ceiling.

"Oh no," I whispered, rushing to the nearest elevator and pounding on the first floor button.


	2. Chapter 2

**(Tucker's POV)**

I was just in time to see Danny attempting to fight. His opponent: a storm drain. Skulker was baffled. He didn't laugh, didn't take his eyes off Danny, and above all, didn't know what to do. Obviously he was going to hunt Danny but now... I bet he was wondering what the heck was wrong with him.

"Danny! Get your head together, he's right behind you!" I shouted, hoping he would at least hear me. He would understand if he heard me.

He did hear me, and he turned around. Skulker just stood there, taking on a fighting stance but doing nothing to capture the halfa he was supposed to be fighting. And...honestly, he had a good reason to just stand there. Danny wasn't doing much harm to anything except the brick buildings around him and two unfortunate cars. Streets were damaged as well but not nearly enough to be thought of as dangerous. I realized then that Danny couldn't fight whether he was Fenton or Phantom.

"S'jus' stay...sta-stay still!" he cried out. (Just stay still!)

Skulker slapped his forehead. "I'm not moving, ghost child! You'll be much more valuable if you actually try to hit me!"

Another one of Danny's ghost rays was shot, and did absolutely no damage to Skulker. It was amazing to me that he hadn't even come close to hitting him. Instead it might as well have been a flare, the way it disappeared into the sky like that.

"Stop...moving! I'cn't _hit_ you when you _move_!" (Stop moving! I can't hit you when you move!)

Skulker growled in frustration. "What's wrong with you?!" he yelled. "At least try to fight! This is ridiculous!"

"Oh, I'm gun' fight!" (Oh, I'm gonna fight!) Danny tried to fly straight but apparently walking wasn't the only off-balance thing about him. His flying was just as bad, if not worse. He started out going in Skulker's direction, which probably even lifted Skulker's hopes, but almost immediately turned right and came face to face with a brick wall. He fell and thought he was winning. It became pretty clear to me that Skulker was getting annoyed. Somehow I doubted that he would want to claim Danny as a prize after this.

Looking down at his flailing, he was really pathetic. He kept shouting battle cries and was convinced that he was beating Skulker.

"Dude!" I called out to him. "_You're_ the one on the ground! You're not doing anything!"

He stopped thrashing and tried to sit up. He was only embarrassing himself. It took him four tries before he could even reach a standing position.

"Jus' 'ait...I'll...I'll...do stuff...n' stuff..." he said. (Just wait...I'll do stuff...and stuff.)

He attempted to walk forward, maybe trying to threaten his foe, but failed miserably as his legs crossed and caused him to trip. Flat on his face, he groaned. "Tha'll sho'a..." (That'll show you.)

I sighed heavily. This would probably end with Skulker getting so fed up with Danny that he'll go away. And until then, he would try to determine what was wrong with him and what the hell he was saying. And it seemed to be that way. Although probably still annoyed, Skulker laughed pretty much the whole time. All Danny did was run into things, trip, and babble his own little language. Not many words could be pronounced right. He might as well be speaking Chinese. I'd always just thought of it as Drunk Danny.

"Jus'ait, thi'll 'urt..." he threatened. (Just wait, this'll hurt...)

"Danny, he's up in the air!" I shouted.

He stopped talking to the imaginary person in front of him and looked directly above him. A normal person would look in a slanted angle, but not him. There was nothing directly above him and it made him too dizzy to stand up. His butt met asphalt. I wanted to close my eyes. Right now, no one would be attacking him. He was too hilarious. Even as he stood up, Skulker didn't worry. In fact, he checked the time on his arm, as though he had somewhere else to be. I was right. This would only end with Skulker leaving, having put up with Drunk Danny for too long.

It was weird... In order: Danny Fenton, Danny Phantom, and finally Drunk Danny. And apparently, Drunk Danny fell under both categories of Fenton and Phantom, except with a "Drunk" as their prefix. Because that's all they were at this point; nothing but drunken morons that were wobbling up and down the street doing nothing except harming themselves. Drunk Danny really was useless when it came to this stuff, being as he did nothing to actually fight off the enemy.

And Sam never came to these fights anymore. She never came to support Danny. And right now Danny needed her support. Even if she just looked at him, that would be enough for him to keep going. There was a time when all she could think about was him, and even went so far as to add a "DP" logo to his jumpsuit, but that was a very long time ago. Eight years, to be exact. But when Danny didn't ask her out, she got tired of waiting for him, moved on, and started dating other guys. It upset Danny when she started talking about how she was interested in someone else, it tore him apart when he saw her with another guy. Ever since then, he'd been miserable. He wanted her to be happy though, so he made sure to act like life was just the most amazing thing in the world.

But that's all it was, just an act. He pretended he'd moved on just like she had all those years ago. But it really was heartbreaking to see him in so much pain. Day after day he thought about her. A couple of times I would come over to his place to find him already asleep, and I would hear him mumble her name. Poor guy even dreamed about her. I was sure at that point that he had never gotten over Sam and never would. Sometimes he would lead me to think that he didn't want to let go, he didn't want to move on. It was Sam's turn to be called Clueless 1.

And I could never forget the one time I had come over to his apartment to find him laying on the bed crying, not caring if I saw. He tightly held a picture of the three of us when we were fourteen and the best of friends. He looked up at me and said with a weak voice, "I love her."

And knowing that he had started drinking so much after that night... Something inside me shattered. I always knew he loved her and I always knew watching her date so many other guys had been hard for him, but after what I'd seen that night, I realized that I had never known how deeply it had gotten to him. I never knew love could do that to someone.

"YOU KEEP HIM!" I heard an angry Skulker screech to me as he flew away.

A half-beaten Danny proudly hobbled over to me. Beaming at his "victory", he announced, "Kulk's gone. I s'ared 'im off!" (Skulker's gone. I scared him off!)

He reverted back to Fenton, without looking around first to see if anyone happened to be watching.

"Good job, dude. Now, what do you say we get back to your place and-"

"I dun _wanna_!" he whined, crossing his arms and further making himself look like a child.

"Are you sure? There's beer there," I prompted. Not that I would let him so much as _look_ at a full can...

He uncrossed his arms and allowed a wide grin. "Sounds good." Finally something understandable comes out of his mouth! His speech was still horrible, but at least an untrained person would be able to know what he was saying. Even if what he was saying was only two words.

As quickly as I could manage, I got my friend upstairs and into his apartment. I had to guide him through the hallway, otherwise a relapse of what happened earlier would come and he would only get frustrated. A frustrated Drunk Danny was a scary Drunk Danny. All judgement and reason had gone down the drain and him getting frustrated would result in nothing less than bad news.

"Hey," he began as I let him wander around his living room (the only place I knew he was truly safe), "Wa's'at stuff in penc'ls again?" (What's that stuff in pencils again?)

I gave him a confused look, despite the fact that he asked these random questions all the time. "You mean wood?"

He sloppily shook his head. "No, tha'stuff in th'middle." (No, that stuff in the middle.)

"What, the lead?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yup, yup. I f'rgot what it'as called." (Yup, yup. I forgot what it was called.)

How did he forget that lead was in a pencil? He was drunk but he must've been more drunk than I thought. And it seemed to amplify when he went ghost, because I'd never seen him pitifully flailing on the ground before. Note to self: do NOT let Danny go ghost when he's drunk. He'd kill himself that way without even trying. But at least then he would die happy, unlike when he was sober. At least when he was drunk he was laughing, smiling, and happy. His problems really were drowned, but sadly they only resurfaced the next day. He would get rid of them by means of any alcoholic beverage he could get his hands on, probably with every intention of becoming this smashed.

But I had to keep in mind that it could be so much worse. Suicide was one of many options, probably the worst of them all. At least he didn't try to take his life. In that sense he was strong, which had to be another reason I didn't constantly nag him about drinking. He was an alcoholic, and that was fact. So if alcohol was taken from him, what else would he have to turn to?

He knew as well as I did that he would never have another chance with Sam. There were too many boyfriends and thus, no window for him to fit through. He didn't have a single shot, not one little opportunity. And at most, he wanted to be close friends with her. He chose to hang on to the past, to the days when we were naive teenagers...to the days when we were the best of friends and did everything together. I could remember him trying to impress Sam, but apparently she never really caught on. Danny waited too long. He should've just told her how he felt when he still could but now... Well, now there was no hope left for him. And she was everything to him. Now his everything was slowly moving away and he couldn't get her back.

He didn't want to suffer anymore. And I couldn't bear to watch. But he needed me, and for now, he needed beer as well. We were the only things keeping him going. Beer encouraged him to be stupidly happy (and horrendously smashed), and I encouraged him to fight ghosts. It was a shame I couldn't fill the void left by Sam though. She wasn't coming. She never came. Eventually we wouldn't see her anymore and that would be the day Danny finally lost it. I was worried when that day would come, always wondering what would become of the infallible Danny Phantom.

"I'ink I'll go in th'kitch'n," (I think I'll go in the kitchen.) he mumbled, following the walls to the kitchen.

Shit. "Uh, Danny!" I jumped off the couch and blocked the entryway to his destination. Knives, stove, breakable objects that were sure to slip out of his hands... Too many hazards; I couldn't let him in. I had to stop him somehow, even though I knew he could simply phase through me. Hopefully he was too full of drunken idiocy to realize he could do that. "I was just thinking...the kitchen is the most boring room in the entire place! Why go in the most boring room when you can go wherever else and have fun?"

His eyes lit up and he grinned this huge, almost humorous grin. "Sounds good." Yes! It was understandable again!

"Hey, are you becoming less drunk or is it just me?" I smirked.

"I'm not drunk!" he protested. Understandable! Still badly slurred, but English! Score three for Tuck.

_Oh please go back to being sober soon...!_

"You're not?" I spoke softly to him, as though he was just a small child. And honestly, he acted like one when he got smashed.

"No! I's _(O__h no...don't...please...!) _just a kin'a dizzy, tha's all. I'ink I'ate too mu'sh..." _CRAP!_ (No! I'm just kind of dizzy, that's all. I think I ate too much.)

"No, dude, you filled up on Budweiser, not food." _Damnit, Danny! Just...get sober already! Or at least go to sleep! I'm getting tired..._

He pushed himself off the wall and fell on his butt, still unable to balance properly. "Di' I jus' fall?" (Did I just fall?)

I rolled my eyes. It was getting late. I figured Danny would get tired soon but apparently that ghost fight (which wasn't even a fight considering the enemy left in annoyance) pumped him up. If I was lucky he would pass out. But then again, I couldn't list one time where I've seen him pass out.

"What do you think Sam would say, Danny?" I asked as he lifted himself back up off the ground. It was a real question, not just something to keep him distracted.

"I'm not gay..." he grumbled back. ENGLISH! YES!

"Samantha, Danny. Samantha," I corrected myself. "What do you think _Samantha_ would say about this?"

"Tha's a weird name. But I'ink I know a girl name' S'mantha." (That's a weird name. But I think I know a girl named Samantha.)

"Yeah, you do. That girl, what do you think _that girl_ would say?"

"M'bou' what?" (About what?)

I sighed in frustration. I was his friend, I was supposed to help him. But that didn't mean he wasn't an absolute pain to deal with sometimes. So I rephrased the whole thing so he could, hopefully, understand exactly what I meant. "What do you think that the Samantha you know would say if she saw you drunk?"

He seemed thoughtful for a few seconds and I couldn't help but wonder if somewhere inside him, he was actually thinking.

"I'ink sh's not here righ' now. Is she hid'ng? 'R we play'ng I Spy?" (I think she's not here right now. Is she hiding? Are we playing I Spy?)

_Just stop it you moron. He's not going to answer you normally. Er, even remotely normally. It's not even worth a try, just give it up already._

"Hey, that fight with Skulker must've really taken it out of you. I think you should go to sleep, rest up," I suggested.

"I 'ad a fight? Wi'kulk'r?" (I had a fight? With Skulker?)

"Yeah, and you look so tired right now. I think you should go to bed. You'll have more fun tomorrow because you'll have more energy," I explained, almost bribing him with that promised energy.

"Mmmm...I'ink I might be'ettin' kin'a tired." (Mmmm...I think I might be getting kind of tired.) He yawned and backed up against a wall, leaning on it and dropping his head.

_Oh THANK YOU!_ "Well then let's get you to bed." With those words, I gently took his hand and guided him into his bedroom. Surprisingly he didn't even come close to tripping over something.

"M'not..._sleepin'_ wi'you. I'm not gay," he mumbled to me. (I'm not sleeping with you. I'm not gay.)

_Well. Things just got awkward._

"Neither am I, and we're not sleeping together," I replied. Again, Drunk Danny understood English, so telling him we weren't sleeping together would get it through his head that I wasn't gay. Frankly, I didn't even know what to think about that. It was the first time he had ever said anything like that and never before had I felt so embarrassed. Drunk or not, this was still coming from my best friend.

But at least now I could get him to sleep. Once he was asleep, I was getting the hell out of this place.


	3. Chapter 3

**(Danny's POV)**

"Ugh..." I moaned as I opened my eyes. Did I get drunk yesterday? Because if I did, that meant Tucker had come over and put me to sleep. Chances were, I'd gotten drunk. Otherwise I wouldn't be in my bed, I would probably be in the refrigerator or, as I recalled one time, halfway in my toilet. Not a fun day, that one. But at least good ole Tucker came to save my sorry ass from toilet water this time.

Tucker always told me I said the strangest things when I got drunk. He would never specify though. I must've said some pretty embarrassing things. Either that or I really pissed him off.

The morning sun... Sam used to hate it. She probably still does. And now I know why...

I grumbled something. I didn't even know what I was saying, I just knew there were words forming on my lips. Oh shit. Oh the nausea... And my head...the room was spinning and what the _hell_ happened to my sense of balance?! So dizzy...so blegh...so-

_Shit, get your ass out of bed and GET TO THE DAMN BATHROOM!_

Dizzy as I was, I hurried into the bathroom. Made it barely in time, too. I closed my eyes and felt my stomach turn as splattering sounds were heard underneath my head. Light brown stuff soon coated the inside of the toilet. What a pretty sight. I felt. Like. Shit. Right now all I could do was grip the rims of the toilet seat and hope I'd puked out all I could. This...sucked... And let's not mention my lovely little headache.

_Damn you, Fenton. Just...damn you._

I panted for a minute before deciding that I likely wasn't going to puke anything else up. I still felt a little sick at my stomach though, so I would keep an eye on that. I was parched. No, parched didn't even begin to cut it. It was just one of the strongest thirst words in the English dictionary and I didn't know any other language so...parched, I guess.

I got up and angrily shoved my hair out of my face. It just fell back over my eyes anyway... This was something no haircut could ever fix, unless I shaved my head. And I was _not_ shaving my head. At least with something to focus on my dizziness was fading. That was good. Guess I should thank my hair for that later. Although I didn't quite get why I had dizziness today. I usually didn't. Oh well. Life hated my guts anyway, so why not sprinkle on a little more horse ass and mix in another teaspoon of shit? Part of this nutritious breakfast!

"You suck, man," I grumbled to myself, slowly getting up.

My knees wanted to buckle under me but I forced them to straighten and stand up. Hangovers, gotta love 'em.

_Sheesh, my head is freaking KILLING me!_

Get a drink and some aspirins. Then wait half an hour to an hour and hope the headache's over. And if it's still there by the time you have to get to work...you're screwed. If you get caught up in rush hour traffic with that headache...you're double screwed.

As I walked unsteadily over to my kitchen, I heard a loud noise and yelled out in surprise. It took me a few seconds to realize it was my phone. Nice. Real nice. I picked it up. Caller ID said it was Tucker. Damn him.

I quickly answered the call. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING UP THIS EARLY?!"

"...Dude, relax. I'm taking off work today, remember?" he said, almost defensively.

I growled at him. "Damn you... I just woke up and my head is killing me; WHY'D YOU HAVE TO CALL ME?!"

A pause. "Just wanted to see how you're doing. You got pretty smashed yesterday."

"I feel like shit, man. I hate this! And I'm on my hangover, DON'T MAKE MY PHONE RING LIKE THAT WHILE I'M ON MY HANGOVER!"

Tucker whistled. "Someone's moody today."

"I'm not moody!"

"Dude, you sound like you're PMSing."

"DAMNIT, Tucker!"

He laughed. "You seemed pretty happy last night. Nice to know how fast that changed."

"I seemed happy last night because I was-"

"Completely and utterly smashed? Yeah, I know. I'm the one who has to deal with you when you get like that."

"It's not that bad."

He snorted. "You're hopeless, man. You know how many times you said you weren't gay?"

"I'm _not_ gay! That has to prove something! I have common sense even when I'm drunk."

"Yeah. You keep telling yourself that. Trust me, you're lucky you don't remember what you do," he said bluntly, "Mr. Common Sense."

I growled again. "I'm half ghost, I can come over there and personally whoop your ass, do you really think it's a good idea to mess with me right now? I've got a splitting headache, my toilet is going to need a whole bottle of bleach, and my throat feels like a desert."

"All part of a hangover."

"Shut up!"

Tucker sighed. "Listen, I'm about to head over to the grocery store. Want me to get you anything?"

My turn to sigh. "Bud Light."

"Anything _else_?" he corrected.

"Budweiser."

"Not happening."

"Samuel Adams."

"No."

"Coors Light."

"Danny, no!"

"Miller Lite."

"Are you kidding me? You can't already be that low on beer!"

I smirked in spite of how awful I felt. "No such thing as too much."

"You have empty cans all over the place. That's too much, dude," he muttered.

I heard rustling on the other end and knew he was probably just getting out of his pajamas. He probably hadn't even gotten ready yet and here he was calling me as soon as he woke up! Did he even eat yet?! I'd wager he hadn't gotten a shower since last night after I went to sleep.

"Those cans," I countered, "were from previous days. They weren't all just from one day you know."

For a few more moments there was a pause. I decided to take that chance to put him on speaker and throw myself onto the counter beside my fridge. My knees would barely keep me up. I leaned most of my weight onto the side of the counter and opened the fridge door. Ooh, the light stung my eyes... I had to squint to see.

I threw my phone onto the table. It almost slid off the edge. Ah well, serves Tucker right for annihilating my head. Still hurt like shit. Talking to him didn't help any. Didn't make it worse, but sure as hell didn't help. I knew I had some Corona in there somewhere... And there were two bottles of wine (both of them untouched) in the cabinet above the fridge.

I lazily eyed the contents inside my refrigerator.

"Okay, sorry. I had to get in my daytime clothes. Anyway, I know for a fact that some of those cans were opened yesterday," Tuck said.

Ah. There we go. About time I found it. I pulled out a new pack of Corona and set it down on the counter, using one of my legs to close the door. I didn't bother with a glass or ice; the beer was already cool enough from the fridge and why waste time on a glass when it was already in a container? Actually, I was guilty of that all the time, bringing out a glass instead of just drinking it from the can. Most guys just drank from the can but no, not me. I had to be "civil".

"Danny?"

I popped the can open and started drinking. I didn't sip on it, I took giant gulps. But hey, I was thirsty and this tasted better than water or milk.

"Danny? Hello?"

My hair kept falling in my face again and I had to keep brushing it aside so I wouldn't accidentally suck it down my gullet. It was starting to drive me up the wall.

"Oh, no, _please_ tell me you're not already drinking again...!" he begged.

I forced my legs to straighten out as sweet relief came to my mouth and throat. I smacked the can down when I needed oxygen and threw my head back, breathing heavily.

"I'm not drinking again," I panted.

"Yeah, are you already drunk again or are you lying?"

I smiled, knowing he couldn't see anything I was doing. "Nah, I'm sober and I'm telling truth," I lied. My throat was getting kind of dry again, probably from breathing like I was. I needed to slow down on my beer or else I would get drunk first thing in the morning. And that was just sad...

I went over and picked up my phone. It was weird because every time I threw my phone, especially out of anger, I had to pick it back up and make sure it was okay. And even though it merely slid across the table, I still had to check...for some unknown and probably really stupid reason.

"I don't believe you," my friend said, his voice very monotone. He sounded almost like a robot or a voice recording or something.

I gripped my phone tightly as another wave of nausea overwhelmed my poor stomach. I could feel my throat tighten as I attempted to keep it down. It was getting a little hard...but it could be done...hopefully... Augh it felt _horrible_. My throat constricted even more as the nausea became nearly unbearable. It was coming on quick, but if I could just keep holding it down like this it might go away and I wouldn't have to throw up for the second time in under thirty minutes.

"Danny, you okay?" He must've heard my deep breaths.

I just hung my head and tried to focus on my stomach. It wasn't going away, no, I couldn't hold it down, not much longer, I had to get to the bathroom pronto!

I rushed over to my bathroom. I forgot to flush the toilet last time so that was nice. But the good news was that the lid was up; I didn't have to waste valuable time lifting it. I heard my phone clatter on the floor as I hastily leaned over the toilet. I wasn't aware that I'd been carrying it until it dropped. Thankfully I'd gotten there just in time. I really had to stop trying to resist my hangovers. They were terrible enough as it was, and as I was sitting there puking my guts out, I knew I would struggle against it next time too. Wasn't I the smart one.

I coughed as I gulped in precious air. I wasn't done, I knew, but at least I could breathe for a few seconds.

"_Thanks_ for letting me listen to that, Danny. Listening to someone puke over the phone has always been my greater goal in life."

Oh, right...I guess Tucker hadn't hung up yet.

I would've made a snappy remark back to him but my few seconds of freedom were over and the other end of the line was probably experiencing his "greater goal in life" all over again. At least I wasn't puking _on_ the phone. _That_ splattering sound would be enough to make him never call me again. Right now that seemed like a good idea because he was laughing. A person barfing, oh how funny. He was also trying to say something but couldn't. Even if he could, I wouldn't be able to hear him.

I was able to lift my head, unsure whether I was actually done or not. I felt like a fish on dry land, trying desperately to breathe but finding itself unable to catch any air.

"You had that coming, dude!" he laughed out.

I spat into the toilet a couple times.

"Go to hell..." I rasped.

He simply continued laughing, obviously finding this whole scenario the funniest thing in the world. My very best friend. And here he was cracking up at me even though he knew it was a hangover. I wanted to hang up so I wouldn't have to hear him anymore, but the phone was out of my reach and right now I didn't even want to get up to go get it. I was still catching my breath, occasionally spitting in the toilet to get any remnants of unwanted fluids out of my mouth. I would rather be tasting that Corona still on my counter than this disgusting...no-words-to-describe-how-terrible-it-is stuff currently infesting my tongue.

"There's a simple remedy for this-"

_Oh, here we go again..._

"-and all you have to do is stop drinking."

_I think I'll pass._

"You suck..." I muttered weakly, spitting in the toilet again.

Another bout of laughter. "Says...says the guy...! Says the guy who just...pumped his...his stomach out!"

I glared at my phone and raised my middle finger at it.

_Damn you, Tucker..._

I decided that I was done (at least for now) and flushed the toilet as I stood up. My whole body was shaky and weak, but I needed to get it in gear. Did I really want to keep winding up in the bathroom again? Answer was pretty obvious. If I could get moving, this might all stop...

_Oh what the hell... Just get back in bed..._

I grabbed a cloth, wet it, and wiped my mouth off. The coolness of the cloth was bliss compared to my overheated body.

"You want me to come over there?" Tucker asked, his laughter having finally died down.

I'd forgotten my phone was still on the floor. I seriously didn't feel like bending down, but I did and quickly retrieved the phone. "I feel horrible..." I moaned.

"I'll be over there in a few minutes. I better not find any new beer cans."

I trudged over to my bed, where I let myself flop onto it. "You'll find a half-empty can on the counter. But that's all I drank." _It's all I had time to drink._

I turned over onto my back, figuring it wasn't the best idea to rest on my stomach after having heaved a bunch of acid out, and used my own weight to wiggle my way into a proper sleeping position. I only caught pieces of Tucker's hounding. My stupid decisions, so early in the morning, had a hangover and still drank, my lack of common sense and logic (at which point I cut him off)...

"Hey," I sluggishly interrupted, "if you want me to be illogical, I could always just get drunk again."

He stopped short and seemed to regret what he said in that moment. "On second thought, you have plenty more logic when you're sober, hangover or not."

I heard a car engine start up and knew he was on his way.

"I might hit a little traffic but I should be over there in about ten minutes," he said. "In the mean time, try not to drink anything aside from ginger ale."

And with that, he hung up.

I set my phone on the nightstand beside my bed. I wasn't always partial to ginger ale, but my stomach burned like hell and-

I jumped, once more at the sound of my phone ringing.

_Tucker._

Without looking, I hit the answer button (I'd received enough calls to know where pretty much every button was) and put it on speaker so I wouldn't have to hold it up to my ear.

"What is it, Tucker?" I growled. "I-"

"Hey, Danny!" a chipper voice greeted me. "How are you doing? Haven't heard from you in awhile."

_Jazz._

"Hey, Jazz." I cleared my throat and tried to sound better than I felt. "Sorry about not calling you lately. I've been pretty busy with work. How's therapy going?"

Yes, that's right. Therapy. My sister had become a therapist, which in my eyes was a most fitting job for her. She made good money, gave good advice to people who would never understand what she was saying, and had the free time to do whatever she wanted when she got off work. Lately I hadn't been answering her calls because she always got off work around late afternoon...during which time I was usually...you know...drunk. I probably didn't even know how to answer a phone. And was I ever glad I didn't! Nobody but Tucker knew I drank alcohol and I intended to keep it that way.

"Oh, it's fine," she chirped. "And therapy's going pretty well. I have one very dissatisfied client though and he always thinks he's worthless, no matter what I say to him!"

I forced a laugh. "Well, maybe that's because he doesn't know what you're talking about. Mom and Dad don't even know what you're saying half the time."

How many phone calls were in store for me today?

"Speaking of Mom and Dad, they're wondering what happened to you. Honestly I've been wondering the same thing. You used to visit us frequently but now you don't. You don't really talk to us either. What happened?"

I felt myself tense up. This was bad, this was really bad. They didn't know I drank! What was I supposed to tell my sister? She was right, I might as well have disappeared off the face of the planet considering none of them had seen or heard from me in just under a year. I couldn't tell her there was too much ghost trouble because we all lived relatively close enough to notice the appearances of ghosts in the area. I could say that I was too busy with work but she wouldn't believe it. I really didn't have any excuse to cover me...

"Oh, nothing," I nervously said, hoping she wouldn't keep pressing for answers.

But it was Jazz, and yes, she was going to do everything she could to get what she wanted to know. And unfortunately for me, therapy probably helped her hone her skills in the art of brain picking.

"You can't sit there and tell me it's nothing, Danny. Even if it's something embarrassing, I'm your sister and you can tell me. It's not like I'm going to blab," she said, again with her cheerful, encouraging voice that I was choosing to ignore this time.

_It's not embarrassing, it's just a secret you shouldn't know._

"No, it's stupid. It's nothing really, just a little phase I'm going through I guess," I replied.

"What kind of phase? I'm a therapist, I can help you through it if it's bothering you."

_Oh great, now I'll have to suffer from a hangover AND my sister's psyche lectures. _

"It's not botheri-" I was cut short.

"Don't lie. You might not like it but you'll always be my baby brother and I'll always be able to read you like an open book. It's a sibling advantage. So tell me what's up," she encouraged.

"Jazz, trust me, it's better if you just stay out of this one. I know you're a therapist and I know you're wanting to help, but believe me when I tell you that this is beyond you," I countered.

_Not trying to be rude, Jazz, but it's the truth._

"Danny..." she sighed. "I'm your sister and I love you, so just tell me what's wrong. I know you think I can't help, but I can at least try. Just give me a chance."

"If you keep on about this, I'm going to hang up." I couldn't help but groan as yet another wave of nausea tickled at my tummy. When would it end?!

She heard me and asked, "Are you alright?"

I tried to hold it down long enough to get to a point where I could say a legitimate goodbye. "I'm fine."

"Well you don't sound fine; do you need me to come over? Because I have a temp working my shift for now, I've been helping Mom and Dad with their lab equipment (she drawled on the part about helping our parents). I can come over if you want," she offered.

"JAZZ, DAMNIT, JUST LET IT GO!" I screamed, soon regretting what I said. No one but Tucker had ever heard me utter even the mildest of profanities. So to scream it to my sister, over the phone no less, was a huge mistake. I shouldn't have let my temper get the best of me like that... Now I was doomed to a long talk with her, with my parents, and possibly with whoever else who might be listening (Jazz would find a way to drag them into it). And I would be forced to stay in Amity Park because it was ghost central and Danny Phantom was always kicking ecto-ass.

_You suck, NICE GOING! Why not let Jazz hear that! And worse, I SCREAMED at my SISTER! WHAT THE HELL, FENTON?!_

"Danny..." she breathed, obviously taken aback.

I quickly backpedaled, trying to apologize before I said something even worse (if that was possible). "No. Jazz. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell, it's just...I've got a headache and I still have a hang-" I slapped a hand over my mouth. Of course I would say that. How was I supposed to cover that now?

_Can I do ANYTHING right?! Well, go ahead and finish, now she knows what it is! _

I could hear her softly gasp on the other end of the line and I waited with dread for her to say something. And for the longest of times, she kept quiet. Was it possible that I, of all people, had rattled the great psychologist that was my sister? If so, this was very new and very unexpected. Back when I was fourteen, this would be the most epic moment of my life, but now her silence seemed to stop my heart from beating. I would rather it be the alcohol doing this to me...

And now the time had come. "Danny, what did you just say...?" she whispered.

"Uh..." _Damnit, Fenton, find an excuse! Any excuse, it doesn't have to be smart or believable, just find something! Blurt out the first thing that comes to your head! _"I-I said I still have a hanger. You know, for shirts and stuff. I thought I lost it, but, I found it. So...I still have my hanger."

"Danny! Have you seriously been drinking?!"

"No! I mean it, it's just a hangover- HANGER!" _I'll be taking a trip through hell now. Goodbye Amity, see you next never._ "I meant hanger, I MEANT HANGER!"

"Danny, what's gotten into you?! This is so stupid, why in the world would you go get drunk?!" she chided. "Has this happened before? How many times has this happened before?!"

I sighed, knowing it was all over. All because of one slip-up. I wasn't one to lie. In fact, I never lied until it came down to the important things like this. My secret, important; fighting ghosts, important; tell Jazz I got drunk and now had a hangover which is why I screamed at her...important, and I couldn't lie about that anymore now that she'd already figured it out. Well, she hadn't really figured it out, I might as well have told her straight to her face. It would've been better than finding out over the phone.

"Yes...it's happened before..." I answered shamefully. I really didn't want to tell her how many times though. I couldn't tell her how many times even if I did want to! I never kept track, I just knew I got drunk a _lot_.

I heard her sigh and mutter something I couldn't make out.

"Alright, you know what? You're a grown man, you can make your own decisions. I'm not going to treat you like a child and give an overly long speech about this-" _Oh thank you!_ "-but could you at least tell me, for the sake of my own sanity, how many times you've gotten drunk before?"

"I..." Uh...well...um, what was I supposed to say? I didn't have an answer, I didn't know. "I don't kn-" Oh...my stomach...I was going to be sick...

"You don't even know..." she mumbled to herself, but not in the thoughtful way she usually did.

I barely managed to suppress a gag. I wanted to say something but I was afraid that if I did, I would end up feeling worse than I already did. And considering I was extremely reluctant to so much as lift my head right now, that was saying something. Oh, geez, why couldn't it just go away?

* * *

**(Tucker's POV)**

I unlocked the door (after the first few drunk spells, Danny let me copy his room key) and made sure what Danny told me was true. And he didn't lie after all. There really was a half-empty beer can on the counter, but it was the only one open. So he wasn't drunk this morning, I could tell from the way he was talking to me earlier that he sure as hell felt bad. Oh and of course, let us not forget the amazing sounds of one of nature's greatest wonders, the waterfall. Only that waterfall was specially crafted by Danny and I was the lucky one who got to hear it in all its glory.

He only felt _beyond_ terrible during his hangovers, so it only made sense that he would go get another one. But... I sighed heavily. At least he wasn't drunk...yet.


	4. Chapter 4

**(Tucker's POV)**

I went around to Danny's room to check on him. No sooner than I got to the doorway did he lunge forth and violently shove me out of the way. At first I found it very offensive, but once I saw him rush into the bathroom and slam the door shut, I was glad he'd pushed me out of his path. I didn't even hear any gagging, which meant he was about to burst by the time he got in there. I was no longer offended. I was _literally_ grateful for being thrown against the wall. Had he been just one second later, I would have wet puke all over me.

At least he wasn't going to drink when he felt like this. I could assume that was the only upside to a hangover. Except him. He was my best friend but honestly, he was an idiot. He chose to drink even while his hangover was still in effect! What kind of person _does_ that?!

...Ironically, the hero of Amity Park does that.

I heard the splattering stop for a moment, replaced by deep gasps for air. Wow. Third time throwing up, he really did feel like shit. And what a lovely time for me to show up, once more being able to hear the ever-amazing sound of Danny's vomit. Just how many drinks did he _have_ last night...? To puke three times in one morning, that was a lot even for an alcoholic. And he was a fine example of an alcoholic if I ever saw one.

Didn't sound like any Sam problems had been brought up yet so that was good. A hungover Danny plus a depressed Danny, that would be such a pleasure to deal with. On the bright side, at least I didn't have to translate Drunk Danny. This time he spoke my language. And the funny thing was, he kept denying that he spoke weird when he was drunk. He admitted that his words could be slurred but thought it crazy to sound like another language entirely. And that's what he sounded like when he tried to speak. I gave up on trying to get him to accept the truth.

I often thought of videotaping one or even several of his drunk spells, but I knew I could never bring myself to do it. I could contemplate things like that all I wanted, but Danny was drinking for a reason, and an important one at that...so who could have in him to embarrass Danny like this? He didn't remember anything he did or said, which was great on my part, but if I told or showed him anything about his behaviors while he was drunk, it would only make him worse. And I knew for a fact that he wouldn't stop drinking, even in spite of having new knowledge of what he did.

Before I could continue on my thoughts, I heard a knock on the door. I didn't even know Danny was expecting company. It baffled me, really. I mean, he was on one hell of a hangover, obviously having drank way more than I originally thought. So...why would he have company over...?

I had to force myself not to smack my face. He was already drunk when I got to him last night. It was possible that he could've called someone and invited them over without knowing what he was doing. I couldn't help but wonder who he'd called.

I slowly backed away from the hallway that led to Danny's room (along the middle of it was the door to the bathroom, which was why he had been forced to push me out of the way and against the wall) and made my way over to his front door. He didn't have a very big apartment, but that was perfectly understandable. Ever since he got his ghost powers, Danny Phantom severely clashed with any kind of work Danny Fenton tried to do. Back in high school, it was schoolwork. But now it was an actual job and he had to work hard to make up for the time he spent fighting ghosts. Fortunately for him, his boss was nice and...if you ask me, she was probably onto his little secret. Now why did I think that? Because she was never, _ever_ hard on Danny. Everyone else would get the hammer every now and then, but Danny? Nope, he never got a word. Thus, he had free time on his hands but then something happened outside of his personal life and BAM, there went his free time.

He was basically working two jobs, except one of them was kept top secret, the hushity-hush kind of stuff. Ironic that his "normal" job had a boss who, I could easily swear, knew who he was and what he did for this city. I think she respected that, and that was why he always had a gesture in his favor. No one else seemed to get that kind of special treatment.

I unlocked the door and opened it to find the most unexpected person in all of Amity Park. For some reason I was expecting it to be the Box Ghost simply because he always had a way of tracking Danny down and irritating the living snot out of him. But no, Danny had called, of all people, his sister. And now here she was, at the door, with purse in hand and hair up in a ponytail, waiting to come in. But...as much as I loathed to admit it, I couldn't let her in. She didn't know about her little brother's drinking problem. She didn't even know he drank at all!

"Uh, hey, Jazz. What are you doing here so early in the morning?" I said, my anxiety evident in my tone and my smile a disgrace to the human face.

She tried to look around me but I held the door close to my chest, effectively preventing her from getting a very clear view of the interior. "I'm here to see Danny."

_Yeah...I thought you might say that..._ "Sorry, he's not here right now. But I'll tell him you dropped by, and you can come back later. Anytime, actually, just not right now since...he's...not...here..." I gulped as I felt her seriousness radiate from her body.

I wanted to say something else, to add to my previous attempt to sway her, but before either of us could say another word, Danny decided it would be the perfect time to puke his guts up again. And unfortunately, since it was in a hallway, the sound bounced into the room. It was pretty hard to miss that.

Her eyes turned cold and angry, and her expression was stern. In all honesty, she looked like she was set to kill.

"Okay," she said, her voice laced with venom and acid combined, with an undertone of frustration. "So I guess Danny let a sick person stay at his place?"

I couldn't look away, especially when her eyes locked onto mine. I didn't want this. I didn't deserve this.

_Sorry, buddy!_

"Eh-heh, come in, please. Welcome to the Phantom residence. May I take your purse for you? Coat? Shoes, if you want to take them off?" She wasn't wearing a coat.

I opened the door about as wide as it would go and gestured for her to come in, respectively bowing as she waked past me. I didn't dare look back up at her. I had never seen her like this before, and I never wanted to see her like this again. Frankly I didn't want to see or hear the intense sibling argument sure to break out. Danny with a severe hangover, Jazz with...whatever she had in her right now... Needless to say it was going to be bad. And this was _not_ for me, Tucker did _nothing_ to deserve this.

She stayed still in the smack middle of the living room, an eerie aura surrounding her. Her patience was just...unbearable... It was like nothing I'd ever seen! I wanted to get out of here _now_ but Danny needed me. If Jazz chose to bring up any comments or questions regarding Sam, he would get worse. He would kick her out in a fit of anger that not even she would be able to fight against. That anger would quickly die when she was gone. And he would start drinking like crazy out of his transformed depression. It would be my job to at least _try_ to keep Jazz in line about that, because she had no idea what was happening right here, nothing about Sam or Danny drinking or even that he cussed.

I could see this ending badly...

The toilet finally flushed and it seemed like hours before a very exhausted Danny came out, two fingers over each of his temples, futilely trying to massage the headache away. I wanted to tell him to look back into his living room, the very first room one sees when coming into the apartment. But I couldn't tell him and he didn't seem to notice through his half-lidded eyes that seemed to refuse to lift from the ground. His hair had always been shaggy and untamed, but this was just nuts! His hair was completely wild and too messy for words. It was clear that he hadn't bothered to brush it yet. In fact, he had yet to get dressed. He was still in the clothes I put him to sleep in.

Overall, he looked wiped out. Suddenly I understood why he kept screeching at me earlier this morning.

He almost tripped as he turned to head for his room, moving one hand from his temple and pressing it against the wall as he followed it. A very small part of me wondered why he never glanced towards his living room, where he knew I was likely to be. But the rest of me slapped that little part in the face and pushed it out of my head. All it took was one glance to see why he wouldn't so much as blink.

I summoned a little courage and was the first to speak out.

* * *

**(Danny's POV)**

I focused on letting my breathing even out. I couldn't exactly breathe much when I was vomiting, and when I could it wasn't a steady breathing cycle that took place. It was so irregular that every organ my ribs surrounded was sore. And my stomach...? IT BURNED.

_Damnit this hurts..._

I paused for a second when I heard Tucker's voice call out to me.

"Danny," he said, much more quietly than he usually would. Hardly sounded like him, the way he said my name...

I took my hand off the wall and tried not to wobble from the instant lack of stability. After a few mere seconds, I had to press my back against the wall as I turned my head. I immediately wished I hadn't.

"Um...you have company," Tucker squeaked.

"Jazz..." I whispered to myself.

She began tapping one foot on the ground and glared at me. "Yeah. I was actually already on my way here thinking I'd drop by for a surprise visit. But now I'm here because my little brother decided to go get drunk last night, and now has a hangover today."

I looked up, almost praying that this would all go away, that I was dreaming.

"Okay, first off, I'm a stupid person for drinking," I mumbled to appease her. "Secondly, you could've at least told me you were coming, that way I would have time to clean myself up." I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. "Why are you here?"

"Why am I h- WHY DO YOU THINK?! I found out you've been drinking and I knew you had a hangover but you look horrible! How many drinks did you have exactly?!"

I sighed again, my hand still in my hair. "I'll admit it, I don't know how much I had. And yeah, I'm sure I look the way I feel. But just so my head won't blow up into a gazillion pieces, could we please keep this quiet?"

Huffing, she angrily turned to my friend. I felt bad for him.

"Tucker, have you known about this all along?" she growled.

It was official, my great therapist of a sister was finally slipping.

Tucker shied away and answered in a small voice, "I might've known a thing or two but-"

"TUCKER!"

_OH! MY HEAD! Keep it down, PLEASE!_

He tightly shut his eyes and nodded. "...Yeah...I knew."

Turning her attentions back to me, she continued. "You let Tucker know but you couldn't tell me? You couldn't tell your sister, Danny?"

"Hold on," I said defensively. "First of all, we need to keep it down in here, my head is KILLING ME. And Tucker found out by accident, just like you did. He walked in on me one day and found me drunk. He's been keeping it a secret because I told him to. That enough?"

She merely stared at me, not nodding and not speaking. Her gaze crept into my soul. I really felt guilty now. I should've told her sooner, and definitely not over the phone. It was like I wasn't even man enough to say it personally. I mean, sure it was an accident...but Jazz was my sister and despite my pure loath for her psychological crap that never made sense to me (even to this day), I loved her and I looked up to her. Especially when I was little, Jazz was the coolest, smartest, most awesome big sister on the planet. Even after all those mind-blowing years (I say this literally), I still secretly thought she was pretty cool. And I wouldn't admit it to her, but I was very proud of her.

Just not right now.

She shook her head in disbelief as time slowly resumed.

"I'll be quieter for the sake of your head," she said _quietly_. "But it most definitely isn't enough. I have too many questions and you've barely answered any of them!"

"Aaahhh..." I hissed as I pressed my hands down on top of my head. I seemed to be getting more and more sensitive to sound. It wasn't as bad when I was yelling at Tucker earlier. "Jazz... Quiet... Please... So _painful_..."

She cleared her throat and apologized. "Sorry. I'll be quiet now. I still have a ton of questions for you, Danny, and after having found out about you and alcohol, I expect your full cooperation in answering them."

I slowly nodded. I didn't want to move anymore... With everything that was going on (the stress, Jazz's refusal to _truly_ be quiet, my sensitivity to sound, my splitting headache that was rapidly turning into a migraine, my severely clouded mind, and my horribly weakened state right now), I wanted to curl up into a ball and even if I fell on my face, go to sleep. I needed energy, not Jazz. I didn't want her visiting right now. I could only tolerate Tucker because he knew how to take care of me during a hangover. Plus, he knew how to be perfectly silent while doing it. Jazz had yet to accomplish the whole "silence" concept; she most certainly wasn't fit to help me. No offense to her or her status as a mental helper, but...I felt like I was about to blow up.

I took a hand off my head, the one that wasn't still trapped in my hair, and waved it dismissively. "Fine, fine. Ask away, I'll answer what I can."

She smiled slightly and nodded her approval. "Okay. First question...when did you start drinking?"

That question made me think, which, believe me, was the very _last_ thing I wanted to do right now.

_So much for curling up..._

I closed my eyes. I didn't have to worry about drifting off; I was in too much pain to sleep. However, nothing could help me remember when exactly I had my first drink.

I shrugged and shook my head at the same time. "I don't know."

"How often do you get drunk?" she asked.

Sighing, I answered, "That's one question that doesn't deserve an answer. Do you really think I get drunk that much? Yes, it's happened before, but no, not very much. Maybe about...oh, twice?" Wow...biggest lie yet.

I still had my eyes closed, so I couldn't tell what her expression was. I was pretty sure I didn't want to know. It couldn't have been very good though.

"Who else knows about this?"

"No one, to my knowledge."

"Could you tell me how you're still _alive_?" she spat. "With all these beer cans you should be dead by now! I mean look at this place! It's beer central! Have you ever considered how this affects your liver?! Don't you want to stay healthy?! To live another day?!"

"OKAY!" I screeched. "SHUT UP! STOP. TALKING. YOU'RE KILLING. MY HEAD." I took a breath. "I'm going to pass out at this rate..."

She was completely speechless. Finally. Silence and nothing but. Except all the tension lingering in the atmosphere, but to me it hardly mattered. My sole focus was getting her mouth to close for the duration of my suffering. She wasn't helping whatsoever and Tucker knew how to handle me during a hangover. Jazz did not. Major difference.

And thankfully, good Mr. Foley stepped in to save the day...again.

"Hey, Danny, let's go lay down and rest, okay?" he suggested. "Make sure you stay on your side and try not to move or get up. Jazz and I will stay out here and talk things out."

He bent down to help me up. Part of me felt terrible about this whole mess and another part of me felt like a toddler. Relying on my best friend like this, just to get into bed...was nothing less than humiliating. I might as well have been bundled up in a blanket and carried to a crib.


	5. Chapter 5

**(Danny's POV)**

I had my door closed, so I couldn't hear them...but Tucker and Jazz were having a thick conversation. Muffled, yes, but definitely serious. I brought myself to wonder if he was telling her just how many times I got drunk, and maybe just how much alcohol I drank. If I wasn't feeling so horrible right now, I would be nervous beyond belief.

_Ohhh...please don't tell Jazz too much, Tuck..._

I could only hope he wouldn't. He was my best friend, the only friend I had at this point. So...hopefully he wouldn't tell her anything too informative. She would use whatever he said against me, including the minor details. I only wanted the minor details to be used against me. My life was hard enough without the major ones.

At least my nausea had passed... But my head...oh, man, my head! I'd had migraines like this before but they didn't occur too often. Why today? Why now? Why me? Why, why, why?!

I could take an aspirin right now but what good would that do me? I had puked three times in under one hour. Eating, drinking, or taking anything would just end up in the toilet. I had ended up in the toilet once before, and let me tell you, _nothing_, even if it was inanimate, deserved that kind of treatment. It was horrible to find (and _feel_) your butt soaking in toilet water! I didn't even know how I ended up sleeping like that and I probably didn't want to. And I never wanted to sleep like that again. The fridge was way better than the toilet. At least with the fridge you woke up half-frozen, but not dripping with toilet water. Bad day, that was a bad day.

More muffled talking. What were they saying? I wanted to get up to find out but my head was so...just...ouch. In all honesty, I didn't want to lift a finger right now, but I really did want to know. I would actually rather have Jazz use...I dunno, sibling/therapist telepathy or something...? Something to tell me what was going on in there without jamming butcher knives into my head.

* * *

**(Tucker's POV)**

Jazz still seemed to glare at me. I didn't know why; I was just the messenger. That phrase "don't shoot the messenger" would come in so handy right now!

"Look, Jazz, I'm sorry you had to find out that way. Danny was right though, I promise you, I found out in a bad way too. I really did happen to walk in on him one day," I said.

"I want to see this for myself, I need to know what mental processes go through his mind-"

I cut her short. "Wait! Before you finish that, I strongly advise you not to see him when he's drunk. He's...well, let's just say he's not himself."

"I already know I won't like what I see, but I have to see it. I need to help my baby brother," she persisted.

"Please don't do this. Just don't, for Danny's sake if nothing else. Believe me when I tell you that you can't help him, this is beyond you. It's none of your business and it only became my business when he started talking to me about it. I hate coming over here when he's like this, I really do, but I have to be here so he doesn't hurt himself."

"Then let me be here instead, give you a break. For one night, that's all I ask," she said firmly, as if her answer had suddenly become rooted into the ground.

"I don't know, Jazz... As tempting as it is, I'm not sure Danny would take kindly to that. Plus, I'm the only one who can translate..." I mumbled, more to myself than her.

She raised an eyebrow. "Translate?"

I nodded. "I call the language itself 'Drunk Danny'. When I first watched out for him when I found him drunk, he spoke too weird and I couldn't understand almost any of what he said. He can't pronounce his words right, and his speech is so slurred that it doesn't even sound English. It's literally a different language and I've dubbed it 'Drunk Danny' because he's the only one who speaks it and he can only do it when he's drunk. It took me a long time to learn what he was saying. Most of the time it's a bunch of random things that hardly makes sense. Last night he told me three times, maybe four, that he wasn't gay, even though I never said anything about him being gay. Anyone who tries to look after him other than me won't be able to understand him. I'm the only one who can translate Drunk Danny."

"Well why don't you just teach me the words he says most? I'm sure I can figure out the rest," she insisted, crossing her arms to show me how stubborn she was going to be about this.

"Jazz..." I mumbled, beginning to crumble under the weight of her persistence. She really wasn't going to give up until she got to see Danny smashed, probably like he would be this afternoon.

"Tucker..." she mocked.

"There _are_ no base words. You won't have any clue what he's saying, I'm-"

"Going to stay with me to translate."

My jaw dropped. I couldn't be responsible for anything that came out of Drunk Danny's mouth. "I'm _what?!_"

"You heard me. You say you're the only one who'll know what he's saying, so you can tell me."

I resisted the urge to smirk in potential victory. "I'm not translating, sorry. I have plans tonight. If you decide Danny's too much to handle, then I'll come over and take your place. But if you insist, thanks for giving me a break. Oh, and there are some rules to this: don't let him go ghost even if there's ghost trouble, don't let him in the kitchen, don't let him out of the apartment, don't get him frustrated, and get him to sleep when you start getting tired." I smiled a genuine smile, realizing that with Jazz taking care of Danny tonight, I finally got a break!

_Good luck to you, Jazz. You'll need it._

* * *

**(Jazz's POV)**

"Tucker!" I heard someone boisterously yell as I walked into my brother's apartment.

Danny, naturally. He sounded fine, nothing like Tucker was telling me about. It sounded a little bit weird, but otherwise fine. It was understandable, it was English. Was Drunk Danny simply what he had called it because it was a little slurred?

Danny ran up to me and gave me a very tight squeeze.

"Hey, little brother," I choked out, my voice straining to produce sounds as my entire upper body was being brutally crushed.

_You've grown stronger._

"Hey..." he mumbled, squinting his eyes as he looked at me. He was drunk. If he could run up to me and hug me though, he couldn't be that drunk. So I guess he was telling the truth. He really didn't drink too much. Tucker was probably overreacting. "Y'r't Tucker..."

I opened my mouth to speak but closed it as soon as he drew away from me. Alright...so he might be a little more drunk than I'd first anticipated... And...yeah...what he just said wasn't something I could figure out. I could only make out "Tucker". That was probably why he sounded fine when he rushed up to me at the doorway.

Tucker told me not to let him in the kitchen or out of the apartment, so I gently pushed Danny backward. Bad idea. He tried to move backward but his toe caught his heel as one of his feet moved under him and caused him to topple. I went to see if he was okay, and I sighed in relief when he began laughing. I wasn't expecting him to actually _laugh_ at falling down. I mean, yes, he was drunk, but...okay, so he was a just a smidgeon more drunk than I thought. Nothing too much for me to handle though. At least this way he wouldn't go outside or in the kitchen. And he clearly wasn't frustrated, so that was a plus. Tucker also told me not to let my brother go ghost whether there was trouble or not. I never questioned why, assuming flying wasn't the best idea when trying to keep a drunkard under control.

"I tripp'd o'r my'n two feet!" he giggled.

Uh...well, I was able to make out "I tripped" and "two feet". So I guess he knew he had tripped over his feet. Either that or it was a random coincidence.

I watched as he tried to get up. His attempts were overall pathetic. He did, however, manage to get himself to his feet.

"'Ey, d'you know'ere I park'd m'car? S'round 'ere... I'ink..." he said, his voice softening as he looked around for...um...I think it was his car? He started to lean a hand against the wall as he made his way into his living room. The best place in the apartment to keep an eye on him, I noted. "I'ad a Sn'ick'r's bar in t'ere."

"Why do you need your car?" I asked calmly, remembering what Tucker said about not making him frustrated. On the inside I was fuming, but for Danny's sake, wouldn't let it show.

"Oh," he said, turning he head to look at me. "I need'a ge'sm'ore beer."

Okay, now that time I was sure I knew what he said. I was pretty sure my expression had a decent mix of calm and fury on it. Danny was hopelessly drunk and here he was saying he needed to go get more beer. As a therapist I knew there was an underlying reason, something that had turned my little brother and Amity Park's protector into this...this...I couldn't even describe it. Just...what made him start drinking so heavily? Yelling at him obviously didn't help, being as he was drunk yet again. So drunk, in fact, that he couldn't talk...in...English... So this was what Tucker was talking about when he said "Drunk Danny". It literally was like an entirely different language.

Danny let go of the wall and stumbled into his living room, where he continued searching for his car.

"Danny, this is your apartment. Your car isn't in here," I told him gently, forcing a smile.

He turned around, almost tripping again as he did so. "Yeah. I know, s'jus'..." He laughed. "I d'nno! Hey, 'ere's my fridgat'r?"

"Why did you start drinking?" I asked him with solemn curiosity. I hoped Drunk Danny would be able to tell me why, unlike Danny, who refused to tell me.

He stared at me with dazed eyes, glossy and confused. "R'you insl'ating tha' I'm drunk?"

"It's _insinuating_, and yes, you're drunk. Now, can you tell me-"

"I'm not drunk!" he snapped, chuckling lightheartedly right after.

I forced another laugh. "Yeah, I was just joking. Of course you're not drunk, why would you be?" Because he clearly had the coordination, judgement, and logic of a sober person. "I just wanted to know what made you start drinking, that's all."

He snorted. "Nob'dy m'kes _Danneh_ Phan'm do did'ly shit!"

My jaw dropped. I was really hoping at the moment that his language was just the alcohol talking. I...I chose to believe it was the alcohol. So, nobody, huh? That's what he said, right? Nobody? Or did I misinterpret that? I could've... Tucker _did_ say that Danny spoke much differently when he was drunk. Was this one of those words that you could mistake for a different one? It sounded like "nobody", but it could possibly be something else. Oh well, he was drunk, it's not like he would know.

"No, what I meant was, why did you start drinking to begin with?" I could help him through this. I knew I could and one way or another, I would.

He looked at me again and eyed me. "Why'd'you wan'na know that?"

Uh, okay...let's see... I heard "why", "wanna", "know", and "that". So I assumed he had asked me why I would want to know that. Meaning...meaning he was hiding something. Even while drunk he seemed reluctant to relay any information about why he had started drinking. That could only mean it was just as important to him to hide as Phantom's identity.

"Oh, just...taking an interest, that's all," I replied, smiling almost in a motherly manner.

I could tell by his expression and the way he watched my every movement that he was becoming wary of me, as if I was going to attack and murder him at any given moment now. He didn't answer for what seemed to be a long time, when in reality it was only about five minutes. Five _long_ minutes.

Finally, he turned his eyes to the floor and whispered, "M'not gay..."


	6. Chapter 6

**(Jazz's POV)**

What-what did that have to do with drinking? "I never said you were gay. I asked you why you started dri-"

"M'not gay!" he yelled, cutting me off. "D'nt say m'wi'him...'cause, m'not. I nev'r will be..."

"Don't say you're with who?" I pressed, hoping I wasn't starting to frustrate him. I didn't know what would happen (Tucker never specified) but I had no desire to find out.

He kept his eyes on the ground but let his shoulder sag and his head drop. "Sam."

"There's a guy named Sam?! And you like him?!" I gasped, almost horrified.

He cracked a weak smile. "Yup...yup...he us'a be d'ere f'r'me. Us'a be d'ere for all'a's. Not...not d'ere anym'r. S'fine though, we get 'long w'out 'im."

"Wait a minute, there's a guy named Sam-"

"S'funny, I know a _girl_ name' S'mantha," he said, finally taking his eyes off the ground and resting them on me.

He...he was almost speaking pure English... I understood everything in that sentence. And was it just me, or did his voice crack at "S'mantha"?

_"Last night he told me three, maybe four times that he wasn't gay." _

_Tucker said that... He said my brother told him he wasn't gay. Did Tucker say anything about Sam? About the girl Sam? Is there even a boy Sam, or is it just because he's drunk? He's told me twice now that he's not gay, and both times I...I think I brought up Sam without knowing it. Not gay, and now a guy named Sam... Then he says he knows a girl named Samantha, aka Sam... I've never heard anything about a male Sam, so I think Danny's actually talking about the female Sam. _

_Wait. Sam... He was saying Sam...something. I don't know what he said, he's too drunk. But he was saying something about Sam. Is she the reason he drinks so much? So often? _

_I can talk to her but Danny said no one else knows that he drinks. That means Sam doesn't know anything about his drinking problem. Danny isn't a liar until it comes to the big things. He was telling me the truth only because I found out. Why does he keep this from everyone though? His own family doesn't know about him or what he does to himself. We can help him if he would just let us. _

"You know a girl named Samantha? What's she like?" I asked in false curiosity.

He grinned and straightened. "Sh's 'n amaz'n' girl who lov'at're." His eyes lit up in spite of the haze that filled them. "Sh'wears all black 'n she'n't eat meat. Sh'kiss'd Phan'm f'r twice." I saw heavy tears forming at the rims of his eyes. As his voice became strained, they started to spill out. "I'lov'er."

I could easily be wrong, but did he just say he loved Sam? After all those years of not doing anything, of not making a single move on her, he suddenly loved her? How? From what I could tell, Sam always had a boyfriend by her side and the trio never really hung out anymore. So how did he suddenly "love her"? Of course, he could also be saying "Oliver" or "a liver". I recalled Tucker saying he often said random nonsense. This could be one of those times, one of those random moments. He was drunk, after all..._really_ drunk.

"Danny, I-"

"M'not Danneh! Dun call m'Danneh!" he shouted.

"Why should I not ca-"

"M'not...m'not Danneh." He sounded more like he was talking to himself than me. "M'not Danneh. I'uz, but...m'not anymore."

"What do you mean you aren't Danny?" I had a bit of a hard time translating, but he was speaking a better now. He was also becoming a little more serious, which I wouldn't have thought possible considering how he was acting before I mentioned the reason he started drinking. I was convinced it was Sam...but I could be wrong. With him so drunk, it was a possibility that he didn't know what he was talking about. For all I knew he was still talking about something random and unreal.

Drunk Danny was becoming a little more English. Either that, or I was getting better at mentally translating his language into mine.

"M'not Danneh. Not anymore," was all he said.

His eyes darted everywhere. It was impossible for me to tell whether it was just him being drunk or actually looking for something. He looked desperate, but why? What was he desperate about? It couldn't be ghost trouble, could it? Last I remember, he chilled the air around him with an icy breath. I hadn't seen him for so long though... Maybe his ghost form had changed. Maybe he no longer released that breath. Maybe he felt something inside him that recognized a ghost.

A ghost... I couldn't help but think back to Danielle. She had been asking about Danny at least once a week. 'Has he come back yet? How is he doing nowadays? Where is he at? Do you think I can see him soon? What do you mean you don't know?' she always said. Had I known this was what Danny was up to all this time, for almost a whole year, I would've told Dani a bunch of lies to protect her from having to know about this. It was hard even for me to watch, so Dani, his cloned cousin and the small child (being a clone, she never did age because her DNA wasn't actually hers to begin with, and therefore became stale, which didn't allow for an aging process) who saw Danny as just the best and most wonderful thing in the world, would be devastated to find him like this.

A twelve-year-old girl without a home, mother, or father, looked at Danny and saw her hero. Her _hero_. He had saved her life...and now no one was letting her see him. It seemed cruel, the way Danny would do this without any thought about what anyone would think or how they would feel.

Then again, she had remind herself that she had no idea what his life was like recently. He had changed dramatically since she last saw him. His discretion to drink until he couldn't even talk had all but isolated him from those closest to him. Well, all but Tucker. I was pretty sure Tucker was telling the truth when he said he chanced across Drunk Danny one day, which was how he found out. This meant that Danny had tried to keep it even from his best friend.

I sighed. "You know, we really need to do something about your drinking problem... You have any suggestions?" I wasn't expecting an actual answer, but maybe because he was so drunk and therefore lacking any and all logic, he could drop me a hint of some sort. Anything was good right now.

"I dun'ave a dr'nkin' prob'm," he replied.

And so we were back to square one with his speech issues... Yay. But it did show me that he didn't know it had become a problem, an addiction apparently. Either that, or he did know but was too smashed to realize it at the moment.

"Danny, I think you do. And you need to get some help," I tried, for some unknown reason, to rationalize.

"Damnit!" he yelled. "Damn this fuckin' dr'nk'n prob'm! I dun care 'f yer a psych...ps-psych...o...sum'm! I dun'ave a damn dr'nk'n prob'm!"

I felt my jaw drop and my eyes widen as the rest of me went completely numb. I had _never_ heard language like that come from his mouth.

"Danny, language!" I breathed.

"Why r'n't you Tucker?" he mumbled, cocking his head and casting a strange look at me.

I was pretty sure I knew what he said that time. "Well for one, I have two X chromosomes."

"Whas'a 'roms...o...sump'mins?"

Uh...a little hard to translate there... I actually couldn't tell what he was saying. Maybe it was just the way he said it. Everything that came out of my brother's mouth was very vague and slurred. His speech patterns were greatly inhibited. I knew it would be hard but I never thought it would be this hard. I was obviously too used to hearing English to fully understand Drunk Danny, like Tucker could. He had been around Danny long enough to have learned a whole new language. Artificially invented by beer and my brother.

I walked out of the room for a second while he was doing...er...whatever drunkards like him did...and rummaged around in my purse, which I had set in his room, in hopes of finding something that would either counter or delude the alcohol Maybe even something that could knock him out, although I highly doubted I had anything that would do that.

"Daniel!" I heard Danny's boisterous cry come from the living room.

"Danny?!" a young girl's voice followed.

_Oh no... This can't be good..._

I rushed back inside the living room to find Danielle (although Danny had called her Daniel) in her human form, being brutally crushed in my brother's greeting hug.

"Dani!" I breathed.

The last person I wanted to be here, and she was here.

_I bet five bucks she followed me here..._

"Dani, what are you doing here? My brother's sort of...busy."

She opened her mouth to speak but all that came out was a strained grunt.

Upon hearing his cousin, my brother let go of her and smiled.

"Daniel!" he yelled again, throwing his arms up in the air as if his joy was uncontainable.

A look of confusion swiped her face. "Huh?"

I cleared my throat and tried to pretend Drunk Danny wasn't here right now. I went up to him and gently clutched his shoulder, softly and nervously laughing. Dani was here. With a very drunk Danny in her presence.

This situation couldn't possibly get any worse...


End file.
